I am sorry to say that Standish and I are no longer under the protection of the Burger-King. At the end of the first day of asylum, the diplomat known as "Dale—Crew Manager" informed us that we had been mistaken for two other "senior-citizens" who apparently also sought refuge with the fabled monarch of meat.

"They missed their shuttle-bus, but they'll be coming to work tomorrow," Dale said. "You'll both have to leave."

We did not leave empty-handed, how-ever. Dale gave each of us a twenty-dollar green-back and asked us not to report this incident to the state attorney general's office, what-ever that was.

Forty whole dollars! It was more money than Standish and I had seen in weeks! "Do you know what this means, Standish?" I exclaimed. "This is enough to purchase a small parcel of land!"

Indeed, I had noticed a great deal of arable land in the area surrounding the court of the Burger-King, and with spring fast approaching, I felt it would be a good thing to grease the plough-share and break the winter-hardened soil. After selecting a choice piece of earth, I sent Standish to the general-mercantilist to purchase some much-needed items such as a plough, a mule, farm implements, seeds and some food-staples. Then we could use the rest of the cash to buy the land from its owner.

Mean-while, I roamed the acreage in my electrically fired wheel-chair, mentally plotting out where the cotton and sorghum would go. Ah, the life of a gentle-man planter! It had been many years since I had worked the soil, but it was all quickly coming back to me.

Imagine my distress, then, when Standish came back with scarcely any of the items vital to running a farm! "The Stand 'N' Buy had virtually none of the sundries you requested, sir," Standish said. "It did, how-ever, purvey a sweetened bromide known as 'Yoo-Hoo,' as well as 'Power-ball tickets,' one of which I bought. It was explained to me that a select few of these tickets are worth significantly more than their face value."

If it were possible to have had Standish horse-whipped right there on the spot, I would have elected to do so. How-ever, before I had the chance to say a word, a man emerged from the brush, brandishing a shot-gun. "I don't take much of a shine to loiterers and trespassers," he said. "Now git off my property, or swallow buck-shot! Go on, git!"

Standish and I had no choice but to flee. God-damn uppity farmers! Once you let them form organizations like the Grange, you're asking for trouble.